


Breaking Old Habits

by The_New_Kid



Series: Amei [3]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23539333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_New_Kid/pseuds/The_New_Kid
Summary: Duncan confronts an Immortal Grand Prix driver who is also an old friend of Amei’sThis is number 3 of the Amei series.RIP Stan Kirsch
Relationships: Richie Ryan/Original Character
Series: Amei [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674757
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

Duncan held the heavy frame up as Amei quickly put in the screws that held her new bed together. He, Ritchie and Charlie were all there helping her move into her new apartment, a large open bachelor suite on the top floor of an old nineteenth century building. Originally it was a popular theatre with rooms upstairs to board actors which over the years that followed had been renovated several times. In the height of the gold rush, it prospered as a saloon, complete with a house of ill repute. In the early 1920’s it became a restaurant, with less of a scandalous reputation. In the 1940’s it was a bakery when large ovens were installed in the basement run by a family living upstairs. Finally, in the 1980’s it appeared as a storefront whereby the ovens were sealed shut along with the rats which, after surviving fumigation by the Seacouver Board of Health managed to squeeze out and move on to more bountiful pickings. The storefront stayed as the rest of the building was extensively refurbished into a trendy apartment block in what was now considered the Old Town. 

Suddenly Duncan jumped up. “Hey, watch it!” He called out.

Ritchie, in painter’s overalls, had left Charlie to finish painting the closet on his own and couldn’t resist opening the large box marked SPEAKERS standing in the corner. Amei gasped as Duncan rushed over and managed to stabilize the other boxes surrounding the speakers before they toppled over and crushed him. “Wow, Boss Speakers!” Exclaimed Ritchie, totally oblivious to the chaos he just created. “Someone really knows great sound!”

Amei uncovered her eyes to see that her new stereo system was safe and gave a huge sigh of relief. “Sure!” she answered him as she shook her head despairingly mouthing ‘thank you’ to Duncan. “Music is my best friend and on some occasions, my only friend.” She walked over to them. “I like to make sure the quality is good.”

“Good?” Scoffed Ritchie, “This stuff is excellent!” He read over the boxes enviously. “I’ve always wished I could have enough money to afford one of these systems! Can I put it together?”

Amei choked at the request and looked wild-eyed at Duncan. In light of the near disaster that almost occurred moments ago, Duncan gallantly offered to help and together they unpacked the boxes. “Too bad we can’t crank these babies up and see what they can really do.” Ritchie remarked. “The guys in the other apartments would kill us!”

“What can they do? Complain to the manager?” Shrugged Amei. “I own the building, remember?”

“Oh, yeah! Speaking of which, do you think you could see it clear to reduce my rent a little?” Wheedled Ritchie.

Amei laughed whole-heartedly at the request. “Sorry, Ritchie, my hands are tied.” She exclaimed. “On paper, I’m only another tenant. I pay rent, just like you do.”

Ritchie looked up from the boxes, confused. “How does that work?” 

“It’s collected by my management agency,” She went on to explain, “who deposits it into my estate and I draw from there. All my investments are handled that way.”

“Well, you would have never found the place if I hadn’t been living here first.” He reasoned. “How about a finder’s fee?”

Amei patted him on the cheek and chuckled. “Good try, Ritchie.” and went back to constructing the bed. It had a metal canopy-type frame which turned out to be more difficult to piece together than Amei had first anticipated when she saw it in the store. 

“Well, well, look at what the last tenants left behind!” Announced Charlie as he took a magazine down from the top shelf of the closet he was working on and sat down on the ladder to look at it. 

“Let’s see!” Ritchie insisted, and started over to him still holding the amplifier.

“Watch the paint, Rich.” Duncan warned. Ritchie doubled back and handed the amplifier to Duncan, whose hands were already full with numerous colour coded wires and joined Charlie at the ladder. Duncan heaved a heavy sigh. 

“Miss Millennium 2000!” Exclaimed Charlie appreciatively. “That was a very good year!”

“Wow!” Ritchie chimed in as Charlie opened up the centrefold. “I’d love to be that champagne glass!”

“I’d settle for the confetti!” 

“This is ridiculous.” Amei remarked, as she stood behind them and peered at the picture. “What’s she got that I ain’t got?” She asked jokingly. 

Charlie and Ritchie looked at the picture, and then at Amei. “Good grammar, for one.” Charlie replied.

“It’s a PICTURE!” Amei reminded him. “How can you tell?”  


“With a body like that, she’s GOT to have good grammar!” Charlie answered, unaware of the nonsense he just uttered.

Amei regarded them ogling the picture salaciously, somewhat mystified. Finally Ritchie turned to her. “Do you really want to know?” He asked.

Amei looked at him suspiciously, but her curiosity got the better of her. “Yeah, sure.” She said, cautiously.

Duncan caught his eye and tried to stop him before it was too late. “Ritchie...” he warned.

Ritchie brushed him off. “It’s OK, I can handle this.” He replied. “Well for one,” He said, trying to be helpful as he circled the petite Asian girl, assessing her, “You dress like a boxer.”

True enough, Amei, dressed completely in black, donned shorts, a tank top, and a ripped up t-shirt over that. It was what she felt most comfortable in, and what she always wore in the gym to work out. “Oh, my God, I DO dress like a boxer!” She cried, feigning distress. “Oh, please, Ritchie, I don’t want to dress like a boxer any more!” She turned and cried on his chest. “Teach me how to dress more like... more like... YOU!” The charade over, she looked him up and down with contempt, and pulled at the collar of his pain-splattered coveralls. Her point well made, she walked away disgusted.

“OK, OK, I admit, I don’t always dress great,”. Ritchie admitted, “But I can!”

“And you think I can’t?”

“Well it’s... it’s just that I never see you in anything else.” Ritchie stammered, trying to get his foot out of his mouth.

“I work at the Dojo. How am I supposed to dress?” Reasoned Amei. “If I went out, I’d dress up.”

Ritchie regarded her with scepticism. 

“Better than you.” She snubbed. “I’ve seen what you wear on dates, Hot Shot.”

“I haven’t had any complaints.” Ritchie defended. “Which is probably more than you can say.”

“Oh, yeah?” Amei challenged, slightly miffed. “Tell you what. Why don’t we have a contest?” 

Stuck in the corner, Duncan rolled his eyes and buried himself deeper in the wires. He knew too well what was about to happen next. 

“I haven’t been out for a long time. Why don’t we dress up and go on a pretend date?” Amei suggested. “We can go Dutch. Heck, I’ll even pay for it. You can consider this your ‘finder’s fee’.” Ritchie looked apprehensive, but there was not stopping her now. “Duncan can be the judge of who can dress better.” 

“Leave me out of it.” Duncan warned, not willing to get involved.

“OK, then, Charlie.” Charlie shook his head warily as she continued, undaunted. “OK, Charlie and Duncan, then.”

“I don’t know,” Ritchie hesitated, feeling like he was being set up.

Amei could tell she was losing ground. “Please, Ritchie,” she pouted. “I never get to go out anymore. You can show me the town.” He looked into her big brown eyes and melted. “You might even have a little fun!”

“Alright.” He agreed, against his better judgement. 

“Great!” Amei smiled broadly. “I get to do more shopping! Why don’t we meet at the Dojo at six on Thursday night?”

“That sounds fine.” Ritchie answered. “Wait a minute,” he said suddenly.

“What?”

“You said it was a contest. What’s the prize?”

Amei thought for a second. “Whoever wins, gets to choose where we go for dinner.” Was the reply.

“Sounds good to me.” Ritchie conceded, “You’re on!” They shook hands. “But you better get your wallet ready,” he warned, “‘cause I won’t be picking a fast food restaurant!”

“You’ve got to win, first!” Amei retorted.

“No problem.” Ritchie lashed back. “You don’t stand a chance.”

“Oh yeah?”

Loud rock and roll music suddenly filled the room. Luckily, Duncan had managed to turn on the stereo before another full-fledged argument ensued. “How does that sound?” He shouted over the music.

“Great!” Ritchie answered, the quarrel forgotten.

Amei agreed. “Sure does, let me see how it sounds outside.” She climbed out the window onto the fire escape.

Outside, the warm sun greeted her as she leaned on the railing listening to the music. A slight breeze brushed by, and she took a deep breath with contentment. This was the reason she bought the building in the first place. Being on the fourth floor, her view overlooked the rest of the neighbourhood until it was abruptly stopped by the comforting presence of Cathedral towers three blocks over. Beneath her was a private alleyway, decorated with plant boxes filled with flowers, compliments of the tenants in apartment 1A, leading to an iron gate which was kept locked from intruders. Just beyond that, Amei could see half a dozen trees which at night, were decorated with tiny white lights that when illuminated, shone like starlight. These trees surrounded a popular coffee house. During the day the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted up to the window and filled her apartment. 

Duncan joined her on the fire escape. “It’s nice out here.” He said as he, too leaned on the railing. 

Amei nodded, “It reminds me of when I lived in the French Quarter of New Orleans.” She told him. “And a bit of New York.”

“Must be the fire escape.” Duncan conceded. 

“You’re probably right.” Amei agreed.

“And never too far away from Sanctuary.” Duncan noted as he indicated to the Cathedral. 

“Of course.” She stood still, quietly studying the roof of the three-storey building across from her. 

“Judging the distance between the buildings?” He asked, following her gaze.

Amei quickly looked up at him, surprised that she was so transparent. “Force of habit, I guess.” She shrugged, self-consciously. “It’s always farther than it looks.”

“Do you think you can jump it?” Although the question was directed to her, it was obvious that he was also questioning himself. 

Amei regarded him seriously. “Let’s hope we never have to find out.”

Duncan smiled, satisfied with the answer. 

“The music sounds great.” She said, changing the subject. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” He replied. 

“Although I probably won’t be needing it at night.” Duncan regarded her with questioning eyes. “The coffee house down there plays live jazz every evening, starting at seven-thirty.” She explained, pointing down the alleyway. “You can set your watch to it.”

“Hey!” Came Charlie’s voice from inside the apartment. “Are you two going to stay out there all day?”

“Be right there!” Duncan called back. “Come on, we’d better get that bed together.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” Agreed Amei as Duncan stooped down to enter the apartment back through the window. “Say, do you want to help me test it out, later?” She joked, using her best Mae West voice.

Duncan disregarded her. “Maybe next time.” He said over his shoulder. He knew she wasn’t serious.

“Well, don’t say I never offered!” She scolded, cheekily.

“I could never say that, Amei.”

(...)__________________________________________________________________________________

Joe Dawson stood at the top of the bleachers intently observing the race cars speeding by. Now middle aged, he was still ruggedly handsome with his rapidly greying hair and full beard giving him a rather distinguished look. He didn’t always walk with a cane, inherently one of the consequences of having lived an adventurous life. 

His binoculars were fixed on one race car in particular, Number 16. A red car pulled out in front of it, narrowly missing the flag man. Joe Dawson watched as Number 16 accelerated, chasing the red car, and as it was clearing the hairpin turn, swerved and crushed into the side of the vehicle. A deafening roar like thunder ensued as both cars rolled and exploded into a burning heap. Spectators rose from their seats in horror, helplessly studying the twisted metal for signs of life. Sirens rang vehemently as emergency personnel raced to the scene. 

Joe Dawson put down his binoculars and ruefully shook his head. Then he turned and left the racetrack as a man climbed out of the wreckage that was race car Number 16.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________

Duncan held up the target. “Seven.” He shouted. Charlie delivered a spinning hook kick and knocked it aside with his foot. Duncan braced himself again. “Eight.” Charlie repeated the move. “Nine...Ten.” Charlie stood in front of him, breathing heavily. Duncan handed him the target and they switched places. 

“One.” Charlie began. Duncan spun and kicked. “Two...Three.” Then Charlie looked up. “Well, well, look at what the cat dragged in.”

Duncan stopped and turned to face Ritchie, who had just entered the Dojo and walked toward them. He was dressed to the nines, with a red silk shirt, deep purple pants and matching jacket slung over his shoulder. “Well, if it isn’t Beau Brummell!” Duncan remarked. 

“Who?” Ritchie asked. 

“Sorry, before your time.”

“It must be before my time, too.” Charlie said. “Where do you come up with these sayings, MacLeod?”

Duncan just shrugged.

Ritchie looked around the room. “Is Amei here?”

“Not yet.” Duncan answered.

“Well, she’s got ten minutes or else she loses by default.” Ritchie stated, looking at his watch.

“She’ll be here.” Duncan assured him. Amei was never one to back down on a challenge.

“What do you want to bet she’ll be wearing black?” Asked Ritchie.

Duncan smiled. “Ten bucks?” He said, quickly. 

“You’re on!” They shook hands.

There was a sound of footsteps slowly approaching down the hallway. “Hey, maybe that’s her, now.” Charlie suggested. 

Duncan and Ritchie looked at one another, and immediately shook their heads. They would have sensed her. Charlie regarded them with puzzlement. “Not unless she’s gained eighty pounds.” Duncan quipped, covering up. 

Joe Dawson appeared in the doorway. “We need to talk, MacLeod.”

“Sure, in my office.” Duncan glanced quickly at Ritchie and Charlie. “I’ll be right back.” He told them as he put on his shoes. “Hey, Dawson, great weather we’re having for this time of year, isn’t it?” He asked as he followed him into his office. “Oh, I forgot. You never come over to discuss the weather.” He criticized as he walked over to his desk. “You know, you’ve got to lighten up, Joe.” He advised. “Life’s too long to stay serious all the time.”

Dawson leaned back on the wall and rested his hands on his cane. “I have my moments.” He assured him. 

“Well, if you do, it’s in private.” Duncan huffed. 

“I’m a very private person, MacLeod.”

“Is that why you come here?” Duncan asked, derisively. “To share your private thoughts?”

“The news I have can benefit both of us.” Dawson insisted. 

“What do you want, Dawson?” Duncan sighed, getting down to business. 

“Have you heard of an Immortal named Roberto Francos?”

Duncan shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”

“He’s a race car driver.” Dawson explained. “He’s qualifying for the Grand Prix event in town this week.”

“So what do you want me to do about it?” Duncan asked wearily. “It’s a free world. As long as he doesn’t bother me, I have no reason to go after him.”

“Well, that’s just it. Technically, he’s not a worry for you, but he’s a menace out there on the track. My sources say he’s high on something. We think it’s heroin, but pre-race tests don’t show it. It must be his metabolism or something. So he gets out there.” Dawson looked out the window. “He’s got to be stopped MacLeod.”

“I’m not your trained attack dog, Dawson.” Duncan reminded him. “Why don’t you put a contract out on him yourself. I’m sure there are members in your organization that would be more than happy to do it.” He added sarcastically. “You probably won’t even have to pay them.”

Dawson turned to face Duncan. “He killed a twenty-two year old kid today.” He continued, ignoring Duncan’s sarcasm. “Ran into him during the finals.” He searched his face for a reaction. “The guy’s got no morals, MacLeod. At least take a look for yourself.” He requested. 

“No wonder every time I see you Dawson, I get this uneasy feeling.” Duncan noted, giving in. “Don’t you ever have good news?”

Suddenly they were interrupted by a commotion in the gym. Charlie could be heard sounding a low wolf whistle. “Is Duncan here?” A female voice asked. 

“Be careful MacLeod.” Dawson advised as he turned to leave. “He’s dangerous.”

“Aren’t we all?”

Amei appeared at the doorway. “So? What do you think?” She turned around confidently. Duncan stared at her short red dress with a matching jacket that tapered to the waist, showing off her figure in awe. She had makeup on and her waist-length hair, which was ordinarily swept up into a ponytail, was kept long and curled in ringlets. She was beautiful, like the time he had admired her before they fled China, three hundred years ago. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________

As Duncan arrived at the mission, Amei ran out to greet him before he was even able to tie the horses to the post. She was wearing a black European-style dress, probably something from one of the nuns, Duncan thought, but she looked beautiful in it. Or maybe it was the excitement dancing in her ebony eyes as she approached him. 

“Big Brother! My Big Brother is here!” Amei cried down the pathway. She loved saying those words, even just the thought thrilled her to no end. A few yards away from him she abruptly stopped, suddenly a unsure about her boldness. Duncan smiled and reached out for her. She ran to him and turned around so that he could see her new dress. 

Duncan held her at arm’s length so that he could admire her. “You look lovely,” He complimented, “I guess you won’t be needing this.” He teased as he showed her the package he had brought or her. 

Amei looked at him and then the gift in disbelief. “F-for me?” She whispered in awe. No one had ever given her a present before. 

“Open it.” He urged. 

Amei gasped with delight as she uncovered the new riding clothes and coat within the wrap.

“You’ll need those,” he told her, “it’s going to be a long trip.” The outfit was not fancy, because Duncan didn’t want to attract the attention of robbers during their journey, but even so, they were the most wonderful garments Amei had ever seen. 

“Red! The colour of royalty! Thank you, oh, thank you!” She blurted out gratefully. “Sister Mary Rose taught me th-that I should always say ‘thank you’ when someone gives me a g-gift or does something for me, s-so I guess I owe you quiet a few.” Sister Mary Rose, who had accompanied Amei to the front gates, nodded with satisfaction.

“You’re welcome.” Replied Duncan, amazed at the transformation Amei was rapidly undergoing from a frightened slave to a beautiful woman.

“One day I-I’ll only wear red, all day long! Every day!” She exclaimed as she held the jacket up against her body to see how it would look.

“Maybe not every day.” Duncan suggested, amused. “Maybe only on special occasions.”

“Anytime I’m with you is a s-special occasion.” Amei admitted, shyly. “The Sisters have t-taught me a lot.” She continued, changing the subject. “Listen to this, ‘in the beginning God created the heaven and the Earth and saw that it was good.’” She began to recite. She continued as they walked toward the main building. 

“Why don’t you put on your new clothes,” suggested Duncan as they reached the chapel. “we’ll be going... soon.”

Amei politely excused herself and went inside to change. 

“She’s very bright.” Brother Cornelius commented to Duncan as he greeted him outside the front doors. 

Duncan shook his head. “It’s a good thing I came back when I did, or you would have had her reciting the entire Bible.”

“It might make a welcome distraction on your long journey.” Suggested Brother Cornelius.

“I can think of better distractions.” Duncan commented. 

“Will you be staying the night?” Offered Brother Cornelius.

“Thank you, no.” Replied Duncan. “There’s still quite a few hours of daylight left and we can get a fair distance covered if we leave soon.”

“We’ll sorely miss her, she’s such a ray of sunshine around here.”

“I would have thought that after two weeks, you’d be glad to get rid of her.”

“Purely selfish reasons, really.” Father Cornelius leaned toward Duncan with a whisper. “Having a relative of a great General, real or not, almost guaranteed our mission would be safe from attack.” He shook his head wearily. “Now we will have to finalize our preparations to leave as soon as possible.”

“That is a good idea.” Duncan agreed. 

“Where will you be heading?” The priest inquired. 

“To the coast. I have arranged for a ship to take us to Japan.” 

“Japan! A beautiful country.” Remarked Brother Cornelius. “Have you ever been there?”

“Yes as a matter of fact, I was shipwrecked there when I was a merchant marine. I stayed for a few years, just before I came to Manchuria.” Duncan reminisced, fondly. 

“I hear that they, too have closed their doors to ‘Barbarians’, as they call us.”

“True, but Okinawa still harbours foreign ships.” Duncan clarified, “I kept in touch, because I had always planned to return someday.”

“I guess that day has come.” Observed Brother Cornelius. “Please be careful of bandits if you cross the mountains, I hear they are infested with them, all waiting to descend upon unsuspecting travellers.” He warned.

“No more than if we go down by way of Singapore,” replied Duncan. “They’re all on the lookout for foreigners leaving Manchuria. I assume that’s the direction you will be taking?”

“Yes, we will be leaving in two weeks. There is another mission opening that needs us. Hopefully they will be a little friendlier.” Brother Cornelius mused. 

Amei emerged from the building wearing the clothes Duncan had brought. He could not help noticing the red coat bringing out the blush in her cheeks. “Are you ready to leave?” He asked her. 

Amei nodded, showing him a small bag containing her belongings. As she looked up at him, he could swear her eyes seemed darker and her lips fuller. He was pleased he had chosen that outfit for her. Red was certainly her colour. 

“There are some things Amei should take with her. I’ll go retrieve them.” Offered Brother Cornelius as he excused himself. 

There was a moment of awkward silence as they walked toward the horses. “S-Sister Veronica game me a new name,”. Amei told Duncan shyly, as she gestured to the nun standing beside them, “a C-Christian name.”

“Oh? What is it?” Duncan asked, intrigued. 

Amei looked down at the ground. Her voice fell flat. “Hester.” She replied, loud enough for Sister Veronica to hear. Then she whispered to Duncan, “I’ll let them c-call me that here, if they want, but when we leave, w-would it be alright if I use my real n-name again?”

Duncan laughed out loud, much to Amei’s dismay. “You can do whatever you want when we leave here.” He assured her. 

“Brother C-Cornelius told me that in order to have a C-Christian name,” she continued, I have to have a last name, s-so I picked Leung.”

“Dragon. The symbol of Luck and Longevity.” Duncan commended, “That’s very good,” Amei smiled, happy he was pleased. “Hester.” He added, laughing at her sudden scowl.

Brother Cornelius appeared with a small bag of incidentals and a Bible, giving them to Amei, even though he knew she couldn’t read. “God bless you on your journey, my child.” He said to her as Duncan covered her clothes with a dark riding cloak. They mounted their horses and rode off.


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of Dawson clearing his throat reminded Duncan of his manners. “Oh! This is Joe Dawson.” He introduced, “Joe Dawson, Amei Leung.” As she shook his hand, a small tattoo on the inside of his wrist caught her attention. “Amei works here.”

“Going for a better clientele, MacLeod?” Dawson asked. “I could be persuaded to join, myself, but it looks like it might be a little out of my price range.” He commented, as he observed her expensive clothing.

“She’s going on a date with Ritchie.” Duncan explained. 

“Lucky boy.” Dawson granted. “Too bad I wasn’t twenty years younger, I’d ask you out myself.” He confided to Amei. 

“Why Mr. Dawson,” Amei said, coyly, “we’ve only just met.”

“You’re right. Where are my manners?” Dawson shook her hand again. “Until next time.” He said. Amei smiled as he turned to Duncan. “Macleod.” Duncan acknowledged with a nod. Then he left. 

Amei’s smile disappeared as she watched Dawson walk through the Dojo. “Is that the man you told me about?” She asked, uneasily. “The Watcher?”

“Uh-huh.”

Amei went over to the window and parted the Venetian blinds slightly to watch Dawson make his way slowly down the stone steps to his car. “Gee, maybe I should have given him my autograph.” She remarked, dryly. 

“They’re not groupies, Amei.” Duncan warned. “They can be very dangerous people.”

“And Dawson?”

“He’s alright.” Duncan assured. “In fact, as I suspected, it doesn’t look like he even knows you’re an Immortal.”

“Good.” Amei said apprehensively, as she walked out of the office. “Let’s keep it that way.”

“No fair sucking up to the judge just before the contest,” Ritchie teased as they approached him. Duncan merely cocked his head, indicating to Amei. Ritchie took out his wallet and reluctantly slapped ten dollars into his hand. 

“What’s this? Bribery?” Amei protested, incensed. “You could at least be a little more discreet about it!”

“It was a bet, Amei.” Explained Duncan. 

“Ritchie bet Duncan that you would be wearing black.” Charlie clarified. 

Amei turned to Duncan. “That’s a sucker bet, Duncan. Give him his money back.” She ordered. 

“That could go against you in the vote.” Duncan warned. 

“OK, fine.” Amei backed off. “Sorry, Ritch. If you had said red, he never would have bet. He knows me too well.”

“I should have known better.” Ritchie said, miserably. 

“Well, he’s been at it way longer than you. Give it some time.” Amei tried to make him feel better. “You might win, some day...speaking of winning,” She suddenly remembered why they were gathered there in the first place, “what’s the verdict?”

“I vote for Ritchie.” Charlie said, as Ritchie gloated to Amei.

“My vote’s for Amei. I guess it’s a tie.” He remarked quickly, a little too quickly.

Amei grabbed Duncan’s shirt as he turned to leave. “Hold it,” She held him firmly. “That’s a cop out and you know it. What did you guys do? Agree to make it a tie ahead of time?”

Duncan and Charlie shrugged. “I told you it wouldn’t work.” Duncan admitted. 

“Now I want a vote, and I want a real one this time.” She demanded. 

Charlie put his arm around Ritchie’s shoulder. “I’m still sticking with my man here.” He said. 

“Thanks, Charlie!” Ritchie put his arm around Charlie, too. “I never knew you cared!”

Duncan looked at Ritchie, and then at Amei. “My vote’s for Ritchie, too.” He told her, reluctantly. 

“ALRIGHT! YES!” Ritchie danced around the Dojo, victorious. 

“What?” Amei asked, mystified. “How?...WHY?”

“I give extra points for effort,” Duncan explained, matter-of-factly, “and Ritchie had to do a lot more work than you.”

Amei hesitated or a moment, contemplating his excuse. “OK,” she smiled, “I can handle that.”

Ritchie stopped rejoicing in the middle of the room. “Hey!” He protested, suddenly realizing he had just been insulted. 

“Oh, come on, Ritchie.” Consoled Amei, “Don’t be such a sore winner!”

“Somehow I thought that revenge would be sweeter than this.” He complained. 

“C’mon, we’ll go have a nice steak dinner, and you’ll feel much better.” Amei told him condescendingly as they left the Dojo.

“Three inches thick?” Asked Ritchie, his pride slowly restoring. 

“Five, if you want.”

“I know the perfect place.” Ritchie said, as he jumped ahead of her. “And they serve great lobster, too!”

“Lobster?” Amei asked as she ran after him. “Hey, wait a minute, I didn’t say anything about lobster!”

Duncan and Charlie looked at each other and laughed as they listened to them continuing their argument outside.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Well, this is...quaint.” Amei granted, as she looked around the dimly-lit restaurant. Wallowing in an oak captain’s chair that could have easily fit two of her, she studied the walls adorned with multi-coloured netting entrapping several unsuspecting crabs and two spiny pufferfish. Amei could not help but notice the surprised look now permanently shellacked onto their faces. Over the eaves hung artificial foliage resembling various types of seaweed, and in the middle of the room lay a salad bar encased in a rowboat with a giant treasure chest holding the plates. On the ceiling fan hung fish that spun as the fan circulated, recreating the impression of a shark chasing a guppy. 

“There’s enough brass and mahogany here to open up a mortuary.” She remarked gloomily.

“They have great seafood here.” Ritchie assured her. 

“I seem to be a little overdressed.” Amei commented as she scrutinized the situation. “No, I feel a lot overdressed.” Amei stressed. “Did I mention that I feel GROSSLY overdressed?” She whispered across the table at him facetiously, as she adamantly flipped open the menu and studied it. 

A waitress appeared with two gasses of water. “Ahoy,” she said cheerily as she placed them down on the table. 

“Ahoy!” Ritchie answered, enthusiastically. 

“Hmm? Oh, ahoy.” Amei looked up form the menu at the waitress, who was wearing a sailor suit and groaned inwardly. She felt even more overdressed. 

‘Welcome to Overboard! My name is Mindy, and I’m your cabin girl for today!” She told them. “Are you ready to order?”

“I’m always ready.” Ritchie said, flirting with the waitress. Then he turned to Amei. “You ready?” He asked her. 

“Oh, yeah, sure. Go ahead.” Amei answered, still staring at the menu somewhat mystified. 

Ritchie needed no more encouragement. “I’ll have the Landlubber’s Loin with a whale’s tail.” He told the waitress. 

“How would you like the Loin done?”

“Rare, please.”

“The Captain’s portion or the First Mate’s?”

“Galley Slave.” Amei remarked, dryly. 

Ritchie ignored her. “Captain’s portion.”

The waitress turned to Amei. “And you?”

“I’ll have the... I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” Amei protested, closing the menu. 

“Oh, that’s OK,” The waitress replied, “some people have a hard time at first. You can point to it, if you want.”

Only Ritchie noticed Amei shoot the waitress a look that could kill. “No wait, I’ll get it.” Determined not to let a menu get the best of her, she opened it again. “I’ll have the...” she took a deep breath, “...Cockles and Mussels Alive, Alive O.” She recited quickly as she slammed the menu shut and handed it to the waitress. 

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The waitress asked rhetorically as she left them alone.

Amei groaned as Ritchie laughed. “I take it you’ve never been here before.”

“I never knew a place like this existed.” Amei replied glumly. 

“Well, now you do and it’s only two blocks from the Dojo.” He teased, rubbing it in. “Before you know it, you’ll be sneaking over here every lunch hour to have the Ancient Mariner’s Special, or on your coffee breaks because you can’t resist the Sea Hag’s Brew, and then again after work for a Sea Cucumber Salad!”

“You memorized the menu?” She glanced over at him with contempt, shaking her head. “Look, I don’t get coffee breaks... or lunch hours, for that matter.”

“I guess we’ll have to take that up with Duncan.” Ritchie suggested. “I’ll be your mediator!”

“What’s in it for you?”

“I’ll get ten percent!”

“Of my lunch hour?”

“Yeah, ten percent from you, ten percent from Charlie, before you know it, I wouldn’t have to work at all!” Ritchie elaborated. 

The waitress returned with a little wicker rowboat filled with buns. “Thanks.” Ritchie said to her. “See? This place isn’t so bad. You get nice hot rolls, and after dinner they have Karaoke starting at eight!”

“They have what?” Amei asked, sharply. 

“Karaoke.” Ritchie answered, as he opened the mini treasure chest filled with butter. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of it,” Amei replied, cheerlessly. “I just never thought I’d ever be forced to endure it.”

“Hey, you’re not only going to endure it, you’re going to participate!”

Amei laughed whole-heartedly. “Oh, no I’m not!” She told him firmly. “I didn’t suffer through a Music Degree to sing Karaoke!”

“Your Degree?... Oh yeah, a Doctorate, right?” Ritchie probed. “I remember. You told me once that you had three Doctorates. What were the other two for?”

Amei relaxed a little and reached in for a roll. “Well, the first was for Theology, of course, and Medicine.”

“You’re a Medical Doctor?” He asked, surprised. 

Amei hesitated. “Yeah,” She said, cautiously. 

“You don’t sound like a Medical Doctor.” Ritchie observed, “Say something medical for me.”

“Ritchie...” Amei protested.

“Duncan used to go out with a Medical Doctor. You don’t sound like her.” Ritchie challenged.

“OK, fine.” Amei looked around he room fleetingly to gather her thoughts together. “The blood flow to the brain was restricted from the patient due to pressure on the jugular, creating severe blockage of oxygen and erratic coronary fibrillation. The result was a loss of consciousness and immediate expiration, followed by petechial hemorrhaging.” Ritchie looked at her with confusion. “In other words, he passed out as he was being strangled to death.”

“Wow, that was great!”

Amei shrugged modestly. “It’s a parlour trick, now Ritch.” She told him matter-of-factly. “I haven’t practised for over forty years.”

“But once a Doctor...”. Ritchie tried to justify. 

Amei shook her head. “I know nothing about the new-fangled machinery they use nowadays,” She explained, half jokingly. “I can’t even read an amino synthesis, which is one of the first things you learn in prep school.” She put down her butter knife and sighed. “If I wanted to work, I’d have to start all over again... and I’m too old for that.”

Ritchie looked at the girl across the table from him with amazement. Still the epitome of youth, she was striking, with round rosy cheeks, big brown eyes that danced with excitement, and a smile that lit up the darkest of rooms. In fact, although she was oblivious, he was acutely aware of men’s heads turning to observe her as they walked down the street together. “You know, I keep forgetting how old you really are.” He commented. “You certainly don’t look a year over a hundred!” 

Amei laughed. “I keep thinking that one day I’ll wake up and it’ll all catch up to me.” She grimaced. “I’ll look in the mirror and be three hundred years old!” She added optimistically, “Well, it hasn’t happened yet!”

“And hopefully, it never will! I’ve got a stake in this too, you know!” Ritchie raised his water glass. “Here’s to never looking our age.”

“Never looking our age.” Amei agreed. 

Suddenly their smiles disappeared as the unmistakable feeling of an Immortal entering the room overwhelmed the two of them. “Does Duncan know where we are?” She quickly asked.

“No, I never told him where we were going.” Ritchie answered, trying not to panic.

“Then we’re in big trouble.” Amei said, ruling out the possibility of the intruder being someone they knew.

Ritchie mustered up all his courage. “I’ll handle this.” He offered, as he rose from his seat.

Amei scanned the room. Her eyes fell on a man leaning at the bar, staring at her. He looked like he was in his early thirties, tall, unshaven, with short dark black hair and smoky blue eyes. He was wearing a silk red and white jacket covered with badges and jeans. “That’s OK, Ritch.” She told him as she grabbed his arm and held him back. “He’s mine.”

Ritchie watched her quizzically. “You know this clown?”

“You could stay that.” Amei replied. “Why don’t you order some wine?” She patted him on the shoulder as she left the table. 

Her eyes deadlocked with the man as she walked confidently across the room and stood directly in front of him. “The last time I saw you Berto, we were on Holy Ground.” 

“That’s right,” Berto acknowledged, “and I couldn’t touch you.”

Amei tried to read his face, but it was expressionless. “Do you want to take it outside?” She indicated to the front door.

Berto looked around. “Right here would be fine.”

Amei raised an eyebrow in surprise. “What about witnesses?” She whispered, as she stepped closer. 

“Let them watch.” Berto smiled as he reached out and brought her closer. Their lips met. Engulfed in his arms, Amei was suddenly transported into a sea of memories, stirred by the clinking of glasses in the dishwasher behind the bar.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________

The nurse hurried by with a cart full of freshly sterilized I.V. bottles clinking past Amei, who stood by the stretcher. 

“Only one load today, Doc.” Informed the medic who had brought the body in. 

Amei looked under the blanket. “What happened?”

“Their jeep hit a land mine just outside of Seoul and exploded.”

“How many survived?”

“Five.”

Amei shook her head and felt the neck for a pulse. “Four.” She said, as she wiped her hands on her already blood-covered apron. “This one’s gone.” She indicated to the other room. “Put him in there until I can sign the death certificate.”

Then she turned to another patient being brought in. “Give me a saline solution, three CC’s of morphine and prep him for surgery immediately.” She told the medic that brought him in. “Isolate his arm, we’ll try to save that first. It doesn’t look like the damage is close to any vital organs.” Suddenly an unmistakable feeling overwhelmed her. She stopped for a second, horrified.

“Doctor Leung?” The medic inquired, still waiting for instructions.

Amei turned back to him quickly. “That’s all.” She said and sent him away. 

She barely took two steps toward the front doors when a soldier burst in with another stretcher. “This is the last one.” He told her. “He was the driver.”

The patient was burned beyond recognition. As Amei stood over the body, the feeling became stronger. “He’s dead.” She proclaimed, not bothering to feel for a pulse. “Take him to the morgue.”

“But he has to be verified,” the soldier protested. 

“I’ll verify it. Take him to the morgue, IMMEDIATELY!” Amei demanded. She watched uneasily as the soldier hurried away. 

“Doctor Leung, we need you in Surgery.” A voice said, behind her.

Amei jumped. “Coming.” She told the nurse, pausing a second to regain composure. Then she walked as calmly as she could into the operating room. 

____________________________________________________________________________________

A while later, she sat beside a bed. On it lay a body, completely wrapped in bandages, rather resembling a mummy. Suddenly the body stirred and cried out in pain. Ami quickly brought out a syringe and stuck it into the I.V. tube. When the patient saw her, he gasped and mumbled something in Chinese. 

“Relax,” she told him, mildly amused. “I speak English.” She knew what was going through his mind at the moment, having had experienced this reaction several times from other patients. Visible relief appeared in his eyes. “I just gave you a shot of morphine.” Amei explained to him.

His head turned slightly. “Where am I?” He whispered hoarsely. 

“You’re safe.” She assured. “I had some locals I rely on bring you here.”

“You seem to be very trusting.” He observed. “How do you know I won’t kill you when I get the chance?”

Amei smiled wryly. “The way you are now, you couldn’t kill a fly.” She answered. “Besides, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re on Holy Ground, which means I can’t kill you, either. Not on purpose, anyways.” She added, dryly. 

His eyes searched the room, satisfied when he saw the crucifix on the wall. “You a nun or something?” He asked her.

“As a matter of fact...” Amei nodded. “I’m Doctor Leung. I work here at the mission, but I help out in pre-op at the Medevac unit when casualties arrive from the front lines.” She explained further. “That’s where I found you. You were dead when they brought you in.” She took something out of her pocket and looked at it. “I see from your dog tags, that your name is Roberto Francos.” She handed them back to him. “Is that your real name?”

“For the time being.” With the I.V.s in and all the bandages, Roberto was unable to reach for the dog tags. As Amei placed them in his hand, he flinched. “I see now. You brought me here just to watch me suffer.”

Amei frowned and examined him again, confused at his response to the drugs she gave him. “You have third degree burns over ninety percent of your body,” she explained, clinically. “Of course you’re going to feel some sort of discomfort, but you’re healing remarkably well. Normally I would have to graft extra skin, or worse... amputation, but your body is rejuvenating itself. I would say it will only be a matter of a couple of weeks before you’re fully recovered.”

“A couple of weeks of hell.” Berto winced again. “The morphine isn’t working.”

“It should be,” Amei assured, and checked his I.V. again, in case the tubes were blocked and the medicine wasn’t flowing properly. 

Berto slowly gripped her arm. “It’s not.” He said. “I need more.”

“I can’t give you more.” Amei said, peeling his hand off her arm, “You’ve had the limit... and you’re hurting me.”

“I’m sorry, it’s the pain... PLEASE.” He pleaded. Amei regarded him for a moment and hesitated, contemplating. “What am I going to do? Die on you?” He rationalized. 

Amei stared at him intently, watching the sweat bead on his forehead, and began to pity him. “Alright.” She gave in, against her better judgement. “I’ll give you another dose, but I’m also going to take some blood samples to test.”

“Test away.” Berto said, showing her his arm.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________

Amei pulled out from Roberto’s arms and regarded him with surprise. “That was almost as good as I imagined all these years.” He told her, not letting go. 

“And pretty rude, considering I’m with someone.” She reprimanded. 

“I can see that. Are you babysitting?” He teased. “Or do you just like them young? The power I feel from the two of you hardly makes for one.”

“He’s just a friend, Berto.” Amei thought for a second. “Well, no, not really. Actually, I won him in a bet.” She grimaced at the sound of that, and set out to redeem herself again. “It’s a long story.”

“I’m sure it’s interesting.”

“And sordid, but I really don’t feel like delving right now. My God, it’s been a long time,” She said, changing the subject. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m in town for the Grand Prix.” 

“Oh, that’s what those barriers down the street are for!” Amei suddenly realized. “I heard there was a big race. Are you a race car driver, now?”

“Something like that.” Roberto smiled to himself and shook his head. She was always so unassuming. He could have told her he had just become the King of England and she wouldn’t have been any more impressed. “What about you?”

“I just bought a building a couple of blocks from here, Valerie’s Vintage Apparels.” She told him. “There’s apartments above it, and I’ve got the whole top floor!” 

“Sounds great.” He turned toward the kitchen. “Hey, where’s my order?” He called over the bar.

“You sticking around for dinner?”

“No, I got in a little accident this afternoon, so we’re pulling an all-nighter on my car. I just stepped in to grab a bite to eat.”

“Does that mean you can’t stay and join us?” Amei pouted, feigning distress. “What a shame.”

“Sorry.” Roberto shrugged. 

“Not even for a drink?” She prompted, seriously this time. 

“No, I’d better not, if I want to get back into the finals.” Roberto opted out, “but why don’t you come and watch me race tomorrow?” He offered, as the bartender handed him his order over the counter. “I’ll leave your name at the front gate.”

“Thanks, I’d like that!”

“Good, then it’s settled.” He took his dinner and began to leave. “Come down and see me afterwards. You can tell me how wonderfully I did.” He joked, vainly. “I’ll be in race car Number Sixteen.”

“Race car Number Sixteen... got it!” Amei confirmed. “See you then!” She said, as she watched him leave out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Duncan leaned on the railing as Joe stood behind him watching the cars on the racetrack speed by. Joe handed his binoculars to Duncan. “See the blue one there. Number 16?” He pointed out. Duncan nodded. “He’s doing it again. Watch.” The blue car swerved over and grazed the yellow race car next to it, bullying it out of position. Then it leapt in front catching the nose of the yellow car. Its’ driver was forced to jam on the brakes, sending the automobile into a tailspin. The car gave a roar and the smoke from the engine reminded Duncan of an incident that happened over a century ago.  
____________________________________________________________________________________

A small hand reached over to the cigar smouldering in Duncan’s ashtray. “No, no, no.” Came a firm, yet gentle female voice and the little girl watched as a thumb and two forefingers snapped in front of her face. “I’m sorry,” the woman said to Duncan, as she pulled the child away from his desk, “She’s just so inquisitive. I have to keep my eye on her all the time.”

Duncan stood up momentarily to reach over and stub the cigar out. “That’s alright.” He assured her. “Without her hearing, sight, smell and feel are probably her best friends.” As he sat down again, the child grabbed the cigar, and before her mother could stop her, put it in her mouth. “And taste, too!” He laughed, as the little girl spat out the evil tasting cigar. 

“Rachel, no!” Her mother tried to sign to her again. “Thank you once again for arranging to run my advertisement in the San Francisco Herald.” She said to him as she took out a handkerchief and wiped the tobacco from Rachel’s hands. The five-year old looked at her mother with wide, incomprehensive eyes, unaware she had done anything wrong. The woman smoothed her daughter’s matted, curly blonde locks that were so carefully brushed only an hour ago, and straightened the newly soiled pinafore, which had been freshly taken out of the laundry basket and ironed that morning. “She needs a tutor so much, and the only words I know how to sign is yes, no, and Santa Claus in a boat, sleeping”. She demonstrated by cupping her right hand to her chin, bringing it down to her left, signifying Santa’s beard, and two hands cupped together to make a boat, and finally her hands placed together under her right cheek for sleep. 

Rachel perked up and started signing ‘Santa Claus’ over and over again happily to herself. “You can imagine how much effect those words have on her.” Rachel’s mother sighed as she put the stained handkerchief back into her purse. “If only I can communicate with her better.”

“It can only be a matter of time, Mrs. Simmons,”. Duncan assured her. “There must be a teacher out there, somewhere.”

“That’s what we thought when we ran the ad locally, but there was no reply. Well, if we have to hire a tutor all the way from San Francisco, I guess we’ll be able to make do... they’re so expensive... ” Mrs. Simmons said, almost to herself, as she turned Rachel’s head in her direction and mouthed the words ‘let’s go’ to the child. “Thank you again Mr. MacLeod. If there’s anything I can do to repay you...” she rose and took the little girl’s hand as Duncan escorted her to the door of his office. 

“No, that’s fine, Mrs. Simmons.” Duncan graciously declined. “I hope we get some results, soon. Good day.”

“Good day.” She replied, and wound through the print shop with Rachel in tow, not before the child managed to put her little hand on the pad of blue ink prepared beside one of the printers. Duncan smiled to himself as an exasperated Mrs Simmons crouched down and proceeded to clean her ever inquisitive daughter’s hands once again. 

Duncan returned to his desk and sat back in his chair to read. It was his job as the editor - and incidentally the owner - of the town newsletter, The Northwest Gazette to proofread the articles before sending them out later that afternoon. He sat upright and stared at the paper confused for a moment, and then walked over to the door. “Geoffrey,” He called to someone in the other room. 

Geoffrey looked up from the printing press and came into the office. He was a small, milquetoast man who looked older than his twenty eight years because of his already receding hairline. “I’m almost done, Mr. MacLeod.” He told him proudly as he wiped the ink from his hands with a rag. 

“Already?” Duncan asked, surprised. “I only gave you the articles three hours ago. It should have taken you all day to do the layout.”

“I’m getting faster every day,” Geoffrey boasted. “By next week I should have it down to an hour!” He joked. 

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Duncan advised. “You’re going to have to slow down, Geoffrey.” He folded the paper he was reading to isolate an article on the top right hand side and dropped it on the desk in front of him. “I’ve been reading today’s preliminaries, and Mrs. Atkinson isn’t going to be impressed when she finds out she gave birth to a ‘None pound dady doy’.” He pointed out. 

Geoffrey stared at the newspaper with unfocused eyes. “Oh, dear.” He finally stuttered. “I... I’ll fix that before it goes to press.”

Duncan heaved a heavy sigh as he sat on the edge of his desk. “You’ve been making unwarranted mistakes like this for over a month now.” Geoffrey let out a nervous cough. “Are you alright?” He asked, concerned. 

Geoffrey took out a small bottle and guzzled half its contents down. “Right as rain, thanks to Dr. Morton’s Miracle Elixir!” He stated, as he showed Duncan the bottle. 

Duncan took the bottle from him, smelt it and winced. “Do you know what’s in this stuff?” He asked as he replaced the cap. 

“Just what the bottle says, miracle drugs,” Geoffrey answered, his hand out ready for Duncan to give him back the precious container. “Good for whatever ails you!”

“I read an article where a doctor said these ‘miracle elixirs’ are nothing but pure alcohol, heavily laced with narcotics.” Duncan examined it for a moment. “It doesn’t say what the ingredients are on the bottle.” He handed it back to Geoffrey. “It would contain anything.”

“I’ll make sure I ask when I buy another refill.” Geoffrey assured him as he replaced it in his back pocket and turned to leave. 

“Well it’s going to be a few weeks.” Duncan said as he went back to sit behind his desk. 

Geoffrey turned back to him. “What do you mean?” He asked, sharply. 

Duncan was surprised. Usually mild mannered, he had never seen Geoffrey react this way to anything. “I saw Dr. Morton’s caravan leaving town early this morning on my way in to work.”

Geoffrey turned white as a sheet. “Oh my God, this is my last bottle!” He exclaimed as he staggered out the door. “Which way did he go?”

“Toward Albertville,” Duncan replied. Geoffrey turned sharply and ran desperately through the outer office bursting outside without bothering to put on his coat, Duncan following close behind. “But you’ll never catch him now, Geoffrey.” He called after the man as he mounted his horse. “He’s long gone.”

Geoffrey didn’t answer as he pulled on the reigns and kicked his horse, urging it to gallop even though he was still within the city limits. His eyes were focused far away toward the hills out in the direction of Albertville, failing to notice little Rachel chasing a rain barrel hoop across the middle of the road.

There was a woman’s scream as the stray hoop rolled into the boardwalk and fell with a clatter on the road.  
____________________________________________________________________________________

The yellow car flipped over and crashed into the wire fencing as a tire flew off and rolled across the road. Roberto looked over his shoulder and laughed as he sped away. 

Duncan lowered the binoculars and looked over at Dawson. “How do I get down to him?” He asked.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________  
Roberto Francos walked toward the locker room. Quickly removing his helmet, he smiled as the ‘feeling’ came over him. His smile disappeared when he realized it was too strong to be Amei. Duncan stepped out from behind the locker area. “I’m Duncan MacLeod, of the Clan MacLeod.” He announced. 

“I’m Roberto Francos.” Roberto answered, “But you probably already know that.”  
The sound of two swords simultaneously leaving their sheaths grated in the silence. Their weapons met in the air and clashed, again and again. Duncan advanced, as Roberto retreated and parried his blows. Duncan forced Roberto to back into the railing over the racetrack as cars in the next race whizzed by. Roberto turned sharply to his right just as Duncan’s blade clanged against the metal beside him. With his left arm, Roberto punched Duncan in the face before he scrambled away. Duncan shook the senses back into his head while Roberto repositioned himself. Duncan swiftly jumped back, avoiding Roberto’s blade as it grazed his abdomen. He caught Roberto’s weapon in the upswing and their swords deadlocked against the wall. Duncan turned his sword and elbowed Roberto in the face, pushing him away from the wall and into the path of two drivers coming in from the last race. They looked at the intruder quizzically as they proceeded toward the locker room. 

Roberto and Duncan quickly hid their weapons, just as Amei and Ritchie appeared from around the corner. “I saw what happened out there, are you OK?” Amei asked Roberto as they entered the room. She stopped in her tracks. “Duncan! What are you doing here?”

Duncan glanced at her. Amei could tell from the look on his face that this was serious. “How well do you know him?” He asked. 

“Well enough,” Amei defended. “I saved his life once.” 

“Maybe you should be more careful about who you pick as your friends.” Duncan reprimanded.

“What do you mean?”

“You saw what happened out there.” Duncan elaborated. “He’s endangering lives because he’s driving high.”

Amei turned to Roberto. “Berto, is this true?”

“I knew he was a jerk when I first saw him.” Ritchie said, angrily. “I would have taken your head myself, if it wasn’t for Amei.” He shouted at Roberto. 

“Ritchie!” Amei was outraged. 

“You can’t prove anything.” Roberto defended. 

“Then it is true.” Amei realized. 

Roberto shrugged. 

“Let’s go, Ritch.” Amei said, disappointed. Ritchie didn’t move. He kept glaring at Roberto. “Take me home, NOW!” She demanded. 

As they left, they could still hear Duncan’s voice. “We’ll settle this here, tomorrow night, eight o’clock, after the last race.” He challenged.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________

Amei stormed up the apartment stairs. 

“What?” Ritchie asked, as he followed behind. “What did I do?”

Amei turned around at the landing in front of his apartment and faced him. “You’re pretty cocky when you’re with Duncan, aren’t you?” She lashed out at him. “Feel pretty safe?”

Ritchie stared at her dumbfounded. 

“Let me tell you something.” She continued. “The two of you run up against an Immortal and he gets his choice of who he wants to fight first. Duncan may be the bigger prize, but you PISS HIM OFF enough, he just MIGHT pick YOU!” She added. “And that’s NOT going to be a pretty sight.”

“I can fight as well as Duncan.” Ritchie defended. 

“Oh, yeah,” Amei agreed, sarcastically. “He’s taught you some good moves, but most of us are still here because we’ve won more than one or two fights.” She started to leave. 

“I’m sure you must have come across a lot of enemies in a NUNNERY!” Ritchie jeered after her. 

Amei turned back to face him. “Don’t kid yourself, Ritchie.” She felt herself blush in anger from the sting of his remark. “I’ve had my share. I just don’t like talking about it.” With that, she stormed upstairs to her apartment leaving him standing on the landing feeling foolish. A door opened, and Ritchie gave an embarrassed smile to an old woman timidly peeking out of her apartment to see what all the commotion was. 

(...)__________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning, Amei appeared at the door of Duncan’s office. “I need to talk to you.” She said, softly. 

Duncan typed in ‘save’ and pushed aside the laptop he had been working on. “What is it?” He asked as he rose and went over to the door, shutting it behind her. 

Amei stood uncomfortably by the wall. “It’s about Roberto.” She said, as she stared at the floor, unable to look Duncan in the eye. “I know you have to do what you have to, but...” She glanced up, pleading, “What if he gets help?” She blurted out. 

“It doesn’t look like he wants any help.” Duncan surmised. 

“But what if I can talk him into it?” Amei begged. 

“That doesn’t make up for the damage he’s already done.” Duncan insisted. “Think about the families of the men he’s killed out there.” He pointed out. “He’s evil, Amei.”

Amei looked out the widow to compose herself for a minute. “And what about the one who started him on drugs in the first place?” She finally asked. “Is she evil, too?”

Duncan sat on his desk and regarded her, his curiosity peaked. “What do you mean?” He cocked his head, as if asking her to explain herself. 

Amei stared into the gleam of sunlight reflecting off the windowpane.  
____________________________________________________________________________________

The sunlight gleamed off the I.V. bottle as Amei removed the tubes from Roberto’s arm and wrapped them up. 

“It’s about time,” He said, rubbing his arm. “Hooked up to a bottle for two weeks isn’t my idea of fun, unless there’s something more in that bottle other than saline.” 

Amei shrugged. “Sorry,” she told him, “standard procedure.” She put the tubes into a small box. “You’re lucky it was only two weeks. Most patients brought in with your condition are hooked up for months... if they recover at all.” She sat down beside him on the bed to unwrap the gauze around his arm and examine it. “Wow... it’s too bad I can’t write a paper on you, your healing capabilities are phenomenal!”

Indeed, she was right. In only two weeks, Roberto had recovered almost completely. His skin, even though it had been severely burned, was virtually bereft of scarring. Most patients, because of serious damage to muscle and tissue, experienced difficulties with motor skills such as walking, or even eating properly but Roberto seemed to be in control and could operate at a normal capacity. It was remarkable, indeed. “I must say, I feel a certain amount of satisfaction knowing this is yet another benefit of being Immortal.” She added. 

“Is that all I am to you?” Roberto joked, as he sat up and wrapped is arms around her. “A lab animal, to be tested and poked at?”

Amei felt his grip tighten and his lips dangerously close to hers. “No, Roberto,” She said, as she placed her hands against his chest. “I told you, not while I’m in my habit.”

Roberto ran his hand through her hair. “You’re not wearing a habit.” 

“Yes I am. My habit is my uniform.” She informed him. “It means my duty is to the church. I’m not wearing a wimple.” As she pushed him away from her, Roberto let out a gasp of pain. “What’s wrong?”

“The morphine’s not working.” He sat back and grasped his arms, shaking. “Are you still giving me the same dosage?”

“Actually, I gave you five CC’s less.” Amei avoided his eyes as he looked at her with surprise. “I have to start weaning you off the stuff.” She explained. 

“Why? You have no idea what the pain is like, Amei.” Roberto said angrily, a thin line of sweat appearing on his upper lip. “I might look OK outside, but it feels like I’ve swallowed razor blades inside.” He grabbed onto her arm, tightly. “Please, you’ve got to give me more.”

Amei could feel his fingers digging into her arm. “Do you want to be on morphine forever? Or even worse? The next step is heroin.” She tried to reason with him. “This is a drug. I have to make sure you don’t develop a dependency on it.”

“Isn’t there anything else you can give me?” He questioned. “What did you do for your other patients?”

“I’ve never had a patient on morphine for this long.” Amei admitted. “We usually patch them up and send them stateside as soon as possible.”

“Then you have no idea how to help me?” Roberto asked, bitterly. “That’s great, just great.” He said, sarcastically. “So I guess I am just a lab rat, to be experimented on.” Amei looked at him, hurt. “What did those tests you took say?”

Amei shook her head. “Nothing.” She told him. “The drug didn’t show in your blood.”

“What do you mean it didn’t show?” He asked, “You gave me enough stuff to kill an ox.”

“The only thing I can figure, is that... ” She searched for an explanation. “The reason why we live so long, is that our bodies are quickly adaptable. It absorbs whatever enters the system, chemical or viral, and distributes it... makes it a part of us.” She tried to explain further. “The effects are still there, but there’s no trace of it left.”

“It’s become a part of me?” Roberto said disbelievingly, still trying to grasp the situation. “Forever?”

“I can get you off it,” She insisted, “It just takes some time. But you’ve got to help me.”

“You’re not the one in pain.” He gasped, clutching the edge of the bed. 

“I know, but my supply’s not unlimited, either.” Amei told him. “We’re running short of morphine at the Unit. I want to save it for the other boys that come in and really need it, so I’ve got to get you off.” 

“I can’t wait that long. I need more.” Roberto tried to push her out of the way. “If you won’t give it to me, I’ll get it myself.” He reached for the medicine on the table. 

Amei struggled with him for a moment, until he suddenly collapsed on the bed, agonized. She stood up, watching him through a wall of tears, as he lay moaning and convulsing on the bed. “Please, Amei... if you ever cared about me... ” He begged.

Amei stared at him with pity. His pupils were dilated, and beads of sweat were beginning to matt his hair and pour down his face. 

Reluctantly, she walked over to the table and took out a little bottle of morphine and a syringe, and gave him another dose. He relaxed almost immediately. Carefully, she straightened him out and pulled the blankets over him. 

When she was sure he was resting comfortably, she went over to the table. He watched as she threw away the empty morphine bottles. There were half a dozen full ones left in the box. “This is all.” She told him, and left.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________

“When I returned, he was gone.” She sighed, as she sat in the chair by Duncan’s desk. “I never saw him again. I prayed that he was alright, but now that I know what really happened, I can’t help but feel responsible.”

“You did what you had to do.” Duncan told her gently. “If he wanted your help, he would have stayed.”

“If I hadn’t been so irresponsible, he wouldn’t have needed help.”

Duncan pulled a chair over and sat beside her. “That’s not true.” He tried to look her in the eye. “Look, how do you know he wasn’t hooked on something previously?”

“What do you mean?”

“You obviously had to give him more than the prescribed dosage.” He intimated, “Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“I assumed it was because he was Immortal, and it went through his system faster.” She mused, as realization began to dawn on her.

Duncan shook his head adamantly. “I’ve been at the front. I’ve seen what goes on there.” He went on to explain. “You haven’t.”

“Yes I have.” Amei interrupted, “In Ching Mai, and in Spain.”

“That was a different war, Amei.” Duncan maintained. “Those wars were fought with swords and the occasional rifle. Ever since the turn of the last century they’ve gotten more creative. Bombs and explosives were introduced that could blow men to bits, with nothing but their dog tags to send home to Mother. You’ve seen the results come in at the Medevac Unit. Even an Immortal couldn’t survive that.”

Amei nodded, deep in thought. 

“But you’ve never seen where those bodies come from.” He hesitated a moment as he searched for a viable parallel. “Have you ever heard on the radio that an airplane had crashed and they described the site as being like something from a war scene? Bodies hanging from trees, total destruction and chaos?” He asked rhetorically. “That’s what the soldiers in Korea and Vietnam saw every day. They never knew what was going to greet them every time they turned a corner, an ambush, death, or destruction or all of the above. And most of them were just kids, Amei, just trying to survive, mentally and physically.”

“You think that’s why Roberto...”

“I don’t know why some men turn to drugs and some don’t... Fear, I suppose.” He continued. “Many soldiers got themselves hooked on opium or anything else they could get their hands on. Often they had themselves wounded and taken to a medical unit, where they knew there were drugs.”

“Are you saying he ran over a mine on purpose?”

“No.” Duncan surmised. “But I don’t think he cared.”

Amei contemplated for a moment and rose from her seat, obviously disturbed by Duncan’s revelation. “Are you still meeting him tonight, at eight o’clock?”

“Yes.” Was the reply. 

“I’ll be praying for you, both.” She told him, softly. 

“At the Cathedral?” He asked, as he opened the door for her. 

Amei nodded and embraced him before she left the room. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Ritchie put his arm down and decided not to knock on Amei’s apartment door, but just as he changed his mind and turned around, she opened it. 

“Look, I’m sorry...” they both stammered together.

“You go first.” Ritchie offered, not anxious to make the apology. 

“No, you go ahead.” Amei consented as she opened the door for him and went back into the room. 

“I’m really sorry about the way I behaved yesterday.” He continued as he followed her in and closed the door. “You were right, Amei. I was way out of line.”

“I shouldn’t have blown up at you like I did, but... it’s just that I worry about you, Ritch.” Amei answered as she went into the kitchen and picked up the coffee pot. “Coffee?”

“Sure.”

“We’ve got enough enemies as it is,” She continued as she poured him a cup. “We don’t need to make any more.”

“I know.” Ritchie conceded. 

“Cream?” She offered, “Sugar?”

Ritchie shook his head. “Black.”

Their eyes met as she handed him the cup. “You don’t need to prove yourself, you know.” She told him. “Just being alive is proof enough.”

Ritchie shrugged. “I guess.” He looked around the apartment, stopping in front of the window. On the fire escape were a few pillows and a book she had obviously been reading before he arrived. “You’ve fixed the place up pretty nice.” He congratulated. 

“Thanks,” Amei smiled, “It wasn’t hard, with everyone’s help.” They both hesitated. The unmistakeable ‘feeling’ alerted them that another Immortal was nearby. There was a sudden knock on the door. 

“Amei! It’s Roberto.” A voice announced. 

Amei took Ritchie’s coffee cup from his hand. “Out!” She ordered. “Go down the fire escape.”

“I’m not afraid.” Ritchie protested as he pushed him to the window. 

“Well I am.” She answered. “I just got this place organized, and I don’t want it destroyed.” She body checked him over the sill. “I want you out... NOW!” Locking the window behind him, she watched for a moment as Ritchie tried to lower the ladder, but the latch was rusted shut, and it wouldn’t budge. “Great,” She said to herself as she closed the blinds. “Another thing I have to get fixed.”

There was another knock on the door. “Amei?”

“Coming.” She went over to the door, and took one uneasily look over her shoulder to make sure there were no signs of Ritchie about. Satisfied, she opened it. 

Roberto was leaning on the door post. “I thought you’d like to help me celebrate.” He showed her his prize. 

“Y-you won?” 

“No, I got Miss Congeniality.” He smiled at her look of confusion. “I came in third,” he shrugged, “but that’s still good.”

“Coffee?” She smiled disarmingly as she offered him Ritchie’s cup which she only realized was still in her hand as she took the trophy. 

Roberto took the cup warily. “Black,” he said, as he examined it before he took a sip, “just the way I like it.”

“What a lucky guess.” Amei responded, obviously still distracted. 

“Do I have to drink it out here?”

“No, of course not.” She laughed, uneasily, “Come in.” She opened the door wider as he strolled into the apartment. “How did you find me?”

“Well, it didn’t take a detective to follow the clues you gave me at the restaurant the other day.” He boasted. “And my ‘Spidey Sense’ did the rest.” The attempt at humour went over like a lead balloon. Amei stayed strangely silent. “Are you sorry I came?”

“No.” She answered quickly. “I’m glad... there were some questions I wanted to ask you, anyways.” Their eyes met briefly as she handed him back the trophy, but she found it hard to look at him. 

“Like what?”

“You know.” She insisted, “like what happened... after Korea.”

“Oh, I see...” Roberto nodded understandingly. “There’s really not much to tell.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember much, just that I had to get the hell out of there. Because of my need, I hooked up with the underground.” Amei looked at him, quickly, guilt rife on her face. “And eventually I made it out of Korea on an Opium run to Hong Kong.”

The dismay in Amei’s eyes prompted him to change the subject. “But I didn’t come here to answer questions.” He put his coffee cup and the trophy down on the kitchen counter and backed her up against the wall of the apartment. 

From outside on the fire escape, Ritchie could hear their muffled voices, but couldn’t really make out what they were saying, not that he wanted to ease drop. Right now, he was more concerned with how to get out of there. If he made his presence known, Amei would take his head herself. Maybe if he stayed put, when Roberto left, she might let him back in. The wind whistled past him. If he didn’t freeze to death first. It had already gotten dark, and he didn’t like the looks of those black clouds hovering ominously above his head. 

Then it happened. 

At first, he thought it was just his imagination, but a groan escaped as two much larger, colder drops of rain splashed down on him. He eyed the three-storey building across the alley, and climbed over the railing. 

Roberto looked down at Amei, gazing into her large brown eyes as he leaned his arm casually against the wall. He brought his lips closer to hers. All questions went out of her mind momentarily with his kiss, and Amei found herself curiously wondering what she had been missing all these years. 

Suddenly, they were interrupted by a loud crash, followed by what sounded like a strangled cry, and a thud several stories below them. “What the...” Roberto started, as he turned around. 

“Cats.” Amei quickly leapt between him and the window. “We’ve got lots of ‘em,” she said, breathlessly, “the place is overrun with cats. I’m going to have to call the SPCA.” Secretly hoping that Ritchie was alright outside, she picked up the phone on the kitchen counter dramatically.

Roberto took the phone from her hand. “The SPCA can wait.” He told her as he replaced it on the receiver. 

“No, it can’t. What if there’s a cat with a broken leg out there?” She insisted. “It would be cruel to leave him... it... suffering like that.”

Roberto stood silently for a moment. “I don’t hear anything.” He noted. “I’m sure it’s probably OK, cats are known for landing on their feet.”

Amei took a deep breath. “You’re right, I suppose.” She conceded. Richie could take care of himself. 

Roberto shook his head with wonderment. “Always the doctor.” He observed. “Except now you’re not wearing your habit.” He ran his hand through her hair as he held her in his arms. 

“No, I’m not,” Amei replied, cautiously. 

Roberto leaned over to kiss her. “No, Berto.” She said firmly as she pulled away. She was getting tired of playing games. 

Roberto was confused. “What’s wrong?” He asked, more than a little irritated. 

“There’s something I need to know.” She persisted. Determined not to let her feelings for him cloud the issue, she pulled no punches. “Roberto, were you on anything before I gave you the morphine?”

“Oh, that again.” Roberto heaved a heavy sigh of disappointment. “I might have done a couple of things beforehand.”

“Like what?”

“Like whatever was around.” He began to get angry. “Like marijuana, like hashish, like opium.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary.” He defended. “You were giving me everything I needed.”

Her eyes narrowed and she felt her fury rise as she realized he had been using her and was trying to use her again. “Get out of my apartment.” She ordered under her breath, trying to contain her anger. 

Down on street level, a voice sounded the count. “One... two... one, two, three, four.”

Amei realized the quartet down at the coffee shop was starting up. “It’s seven thirty,” She told Roberto, suddenly reminded of the time. “You have an appointment at eight o’clock. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

Roberto pushed himself away from the wall. “Thanks for the coffee.” He said sarcastically as he turned to leave, picking up his trophy from the kitchen counter on his way out. 

“Berto,” she called after him. He stopped but didn’t turn around. “No matter who wins tonight, I ca...” It was hard to get the words out. “I can’t see you any more.” She whispered.

Roberto barely acknowledged the remark as he continued out the door. 

Stunned, Amei had to sit down until she felt he had left the building. “Ritchie!” She suddenly remembered and ran to the window. She opened it and looked down the alley, searching for any sign of him. A crushed flowerbed was the only thing left out there. The chilling breeze cut through her as she quickly brought the pillows on the fire escape into the room before the rain soaked them. Closing the window behind her, she broke down and cried. 

A low, sultry alto voice drifted up from the coffee shop and Amei heard every word of ‘Willow Weep for Me’ like she had never heard them before.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________

The rain beat down relentlessly on the racetrack. Even in the dark, the rivers of rainwater were easily distinguishable from the rainbow trails of oil spilt on the road. Duncan stepped out onto the thoroughfare, his sword still under his raincoat. Immediately, Roberto appeared, proving to Duncan what his senses had already told him well in advance. “Let’s get this over with.” He bid his opponent.

Swords leapt into their hands almost as if by magic, braced for action. Duncan struck first, with one swift, powerful blow cross Roberto’s mid-section. Roberto sprang back nimbly and parried the blow with a downward strike, enveloping Duncan’s sword on the upswing. He pushed the weapon aside, spinning with the momentum. Duncan brought his blade down with powerful impact again and again, forcing Roberto back into a sheltered pit and against the wall. A shelf broke above Roberto’s head, narrowly missing him, save for some liquid spilling down his sleeve. 

Loose tires rolled free and those that missed Duncan collided with tables behind him set up with oil and and equipment left for repair work. Oil began to drip from overturned containers, creating small pools at their feet as they fought. Duncan repelled Roberto’s blow forcing his weapon down against the broken table. As his sword grated across the blade, sparks flew in abundance, setting fire to the pool of oil below. 

The ignited liquid swiftly made its way across the table, feeding on anything in its path, including Roberto’s sleeve. Panicked, Roberto tried to beat the flames off his arm, whilst still fending off Duncan’s track. The heat of the fire brought back the fears he still harboured, even after all these years. 

Desperately he turned and ran out into the rain, hoping to extinguish the fire. Tripping on his way out of the pit his arm fortunately splashed into a puddle of water, putting out the blaze, just in time to block a blow Duncan waged against him. The flames followed them out to the motorway, and one swift charge ignited the river of oil, illuminating the entire racetrack. 

The sudden brightness caused the combatants to lose their fortitude momentarily as they hacked wildly at each other, not knowing if their blows would connect with any impact. 

A sword suddenly glinted above the flames and the clangs of warfare were silenced forevermore. 

Within the roar of the fire came a howling of wind, and a rush of energy swept the entire raceway. Racks of night lights turned on spontaneously, only to explode with invisible impact shattering glass across the pavement below. Gas pumps in the pits erupted into showering infernos spewing out flares and igniting the shelters around it. The heavens opened up, and let out torrents of ran and bolts of lightning which seemed to aim themselves on one solitary form in the midst of all the chaos. 

Even when the Quickening subsided, the hungry flames continued to burn despite the downpour, as the sound of fire engine sirens wailed in the distance.


	4. EPILOGUE

Amei lit another candle on the altar. This one was for Duncan. Distraught, she knelt with her rosary and made the sign of the cross on her chest once again. Bravely she tried not to cry as she prayed for the souls of the two men she cared for. Her loyalties were tearing her apart. 

She had been there for over an hour. Having run out of her own prayers, she settled for reciting Hail Marys over and over again. 

Outside in the rain, weary footsteps slowly climbed the stone steps in front of the Cathedral. As the front doors opened, Amei could feel the cold wind rush into the building, but it was’t the draft that chilled her, it was the ‘feeling’ that accompanied it. Afraid to look, she closed her eyes tightly and finished her prayer before she turned around. A lone figure stood at the rear of the Sanctuary. She held her breath as he stepped into the light. 

It was Duncan. 

Amei let out a sob of relief as she rose unsteadily to meet him. Duncan could see that she was torn between her happiness for him and her sorrow for his fallen opponent. Halfway down the aisle, he rushed over to hold her. She could smell the unmistakeable odour of gasoline and smoke on his cold, rain-soaked coat as he held her in his arms. They fell together in middle of the Cathedral. Unable to hold back the tears any longer, they streamed down her face and she was overwhelmed with grief for Roberto.

Silently they mourned together in the solace of the Cathedral until she was ready to go home. 

THE END


End file.
